“Perhaps you should have a nip, first, my lord,” Tremayne suggested as he held the bottle of brandy preparatory to splashing the contents over the wound.

“Oh, that’s an excellent suggestion, Three,” Gillian agreed.

“No, I don’t need it,” Noble said, narrowing his eyes as his wife leaned over him to gaze at the wound. He had a clear view of her warm, enticing cleavage. He didn’t need brandy. All he needed was her.

“Don’t be foolish, Noble. It’s bound to sting. Go ahead and sluice your gob.”

Noble’s head snapped back in disbelief. He looked closely at Gillian for a moment, then raised a sardonic brow at Crouch.

“Go ahead, m’lord, ’ave yerself a line of the old author,” Crouch said with a weak smile, handing him a dram of brandy. Noble grimaced, muttered something about having a word with Crouch at a later date, and tossed back the fiery liquid.

By the time his wound had been tended to, Gillian felt the situation was well enough in hand for her to have the bath she’d ordered earlier. What had gotten into her Lord of Passion? His actions at the Gayfields’ house, while appreciated and enjoyed despite the unusual circumstances, were bewildering. When Noble had pinned her up against the wall in Lady Gayfield’s bedchamber the last thing she’d been expecting was for him to use that very same wall in a manner that still made her knees weak at the memory. No, she had not expected that; she’d expected Noble to rant and rave about her meeting with Lord Carlisle, and instead he had shared himself with her, giving her pleasure where she had been sure he would be cold and withdrawn.

She sighed over the confusing man she had married and scrubbed at her palms with a piece of pumice. Happily, the blue was almost gone, but it was a reminder of just how her heedless, foolish actions drove Noble to distraction. She sighed again, this time out of sympathy with him. Poor man; first his organs were out of humor and now an unknown villain had shot him. A frown marred her smooth brow for a moment as she contemplated how she could ease his pain, then disappeared as she remembered the fascinating pamphlet she had forced the man to sell her earlier. It was the very thing!

Gillian padded around the room barefoot, gathering the items she would need; then, with her arms full of bottles and pots, she went through the connecting door into Noble’s room.

She could hear his voice rumbling in his dressing room. Setting down her collection of oils and unguents, she stuck her head into the adjoining room.

“Did Tremayne Two catch up with the carriage?”

Noble turned toward her voice, his face black with anger. He stared at her for a moment, his gaze heating her even through her dressing gown. His expression cleared as the anger faded. “No, he did not. The other carriage had too much of an advantage.”